Sixty Nine Years
by Rosina White
Summary: Sixty-nine years have passed since Italy's surrender during WWII. Finding it hard to make up, fate seems to pull the two back together once a little meddling and a world wide apocalypse ensues. Rating subject to change.
1. Meeting

Dead silence. That's all that ever passed between the two, anymore. Italy sat quietly in his chair, zoning out on the door, while Germany sat next to him, pretending to listen intently to the speaker. It was like a cruel joke how the two's seats were always assigned very near to, if not next to each other. It was , of course, up to the host country to figure out the seating arrangements, and since the meeting was being held in Berlin today this should _not_ have happened. Germany had made absolutely sure that the seats were arranged so that Italy was placed as far from his as physically possible. He was nearly positive that Prussia had something to do with the change in arrangement, since his brother took so much pleasure in meddling. Usually just to piss of Germany.

The air was tense and uncomfortable, but not out of hate or spite. For Germany it was out of regret and guilt and every other feeling of the sort. He was positive that Italy had stopped speaking to him out of spite, though. After what the tall blond nation had done to that small Italian, he would be surprised if Italy so much as looked at him ever again with anything beside hate and fear. WWII had changed everyone, but it didn't seem to change anyone as much as it had changed those two.

After Italy had surrendered Germany had beaten him to a pulp, right there on his front step. He had beaten the defenseless nation who had come back to beg for forgiveness. The worst part was he didn't even know that Italy had no other choice. He'd just assumed that he had done it to hurt Germany, to break his heart. He never stopped to think that Italy wasn't that kind of a person. He had never done anything purely to hurt someone, in fact it was the exact opposite. It seemed like everything the Italian did was for someone else. Sure he messed things up a lot, but he was still trying. That was why he had surrendered. He was trying to help his brother and himself. The Italian had mentioned on that day that he was trying to save Germany, as well, but the German still didn't know what he meant by that.

After Italy had left his home Germany had stayed in the same spot on the floor all night, having cried himself dry. At about one in the morning someone had broken down his door. He already knew who it would be, and he knew that whatever Romano was going to do to him he deserved. So he took the beating like Italy took his. He probably could have fought back and he probably could have won, but he just quietly allowed himself to get kicked around, as the older of the two Italys screamed at him, told him what he'd done to his little brother, told him how long it was going to take for him to get better, told him how much Italy had cared and how Germany was a monster for what he'd done. He told him how Italy had threatened to kill himself rather than surrender, he told him that Italy was _still _threatening to kill himself. All those words had hurt more than any of the punches, kicks, and cuts.

Just before leaving Romano knelt down and looked Germany straight in the eyes with a look so terrifying it could give Russia a run for his money. His face was drawn in a snarl as he spoke. He said that the only reason he was going to let Germany live at that moment was so that if his brother ever killed himself he'd be able to come back and shoot Germany right in the head.

For the first time that night, the blond spoke, "You'd be lucky if I didn't shoot myself first."

It was true, too. If Italy ever killed himself, especially because of what Germany had done to him, he would put a bullet in his head right then and there. He would rather be dead than live with what he'd done. Maybe Prussia would be left with the country, and in that event it would be safe to say that all of Germany would go straight to Hell, but he wouldn't care because he wouldn't have Italy. Without Italy the whole world would be Hell, anyway.

After that night he managed to pull himself together and fake his strength, once again. He pretended to be strong, unwavering. He pretended that it hadn't effected him. Time passed, sixty-nine _years_ passed, and things had not changed much. He now had an irresponsible older brother living in his basement, and they'd been doing world conferences ever since the cold war ended so to prevent that sort of thing from happening again. Besides that though, everyone was outwardly the same, more or less. Maybe Russia had gotten slightly more insane, maybe China had started cracking a little too. Japan had gotten a lot jumpier, thanks to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but he was still him, and everyone else was still everyone else.

Except Italy.

He had become significantly less cheerful. When he smiled it was obviously faked, when he spoke it was with significantly less enthusiasm. He seemed to have become shyer, and quieter. He bit his lower lip a lot and started biting his nails, too.

The German had overheard Hungary speak one day of how she hadn't seen Italy like this since 1806. Germany had no idea the significance of that date and told himself he'd find out later, but never remembered to. Not like it mattered anyway. He couldn't even seem to remember anything before 1815.

So he sat and pretended to listen to whoever was talking. He couldn't find it in him to focus with Italy this close. He didn't like being this close to someone he loved so much. He felt like he was posing a threat to the Italian, like he was going to break him by being to close. Every time he chanced a glance over he seemed somewhere else, his mind wandering far off to a place that Germany could only hope was happy. No one could really tell though, since the look on his face was simply blank.

xxxxx

Italy wiggled his toes in his shoes and looked straight ahead at the door, daring himself not to look at Germany, who always seemed to be too close. Italy was always afraid of being too close now, always afraid that if he got near Germany he'd get upset. He was still convinced that Germany hated him, and still convinced that he had every right to.

He was a little confused today, though. The meeting was in Germany, so naturally where the event was held, catering, seating arrangements, ect. was all arranged by the German. So why did he put their seat next to each other? Italy hoped it was because he had forgiven him, prayed it was because of that. He sat there at the table, anxiously drumming his fingers and wiggling his toes hoping, praying that maybe Germany had forgiven him.

God knows Italy had forgiven Germany, long before he'd even lain a finger on the auburn haired man.

Italy remember that day long ago when he had gone to try and ask Germany to forgive him, how he'd been beaten, stripped him of the iron cross pendant, and then discarded him on the German's walkway like a piece of trash. He definitely felt like a piece of trash.

After he'd driven home very slowly with a concussion, broken nose, broken ribs, and a broken heart he had toppled over his fence in an attempt to jump over it and passed out in the meadow just beyond. His brother found him shortly after and Italy swore he never seen Romano cry that much and look so angry at the same time. He listened to every word Italy spoke about how he would rather be dead than live like this, and after dragging Italy inside and calling up Spain to keep and eye on the younger Italian, he grabbed a gun and walked out the front door.

Italy screamed and screamed for him to stop, he threatened to kill himself if he shot Germany. He yelled that it was his fault it happened, and he tried chasing him out of the house. Italy was in no state to run, though, and was left watching his brother walk out the door angrily, gun in hand. Italy wondered if he'd ever see him or Germany again, since it was highly likely that one would kill the other.

That was one of the worst nights of his life. There were only four nights on that list. The night when Grandpa Rome died, the night after Holy Rome left, the night he found out about Holy Rome's death, and that night after telling Germany about his surrender.

Italy had come to hate night. He hated waiting through it for morning, he hated waking up alone in his room during it, he hated nights where the clouds blocked the sky because it made him feel like God had closed up heaven from everyone else.

He was thinking a lot about heaven, lately. Mainly because there weren't many other things left anymore that made him happy. There were still things he liked, and things that could make him fell better, but not much seemed to make him genuinely happy like they had when Germany was around.

That was what it was like after he found out that Holy Rome had died, way back in 1806. Things had slowly gotten better, but the day he met Germany was the day that things had really seemed happy again. He was terrified at first, but even though he was his prisoner for a while, being with Germany had improved things so much it was almost miraculous. There was something about him that Italy instantly liked. He reminded him a lot of Holy Rome, and at first that was the biggest reason he liked Germany, but after a while he started liking so much more. How strong he was, how nice he was, how brave he was, how he was always looking out for Italy.

_I miss that._ He thought sadly.

The two had both given up on fixing things with the other. Italy thought that Germany hated him, and vice versa, but really they were both heartbroken and still in love with the other. It had been that way for far too long.

Italy chanced a look at the German next to him his gaze lingering on the face he'd loved so much. He blinked his amber eyes sadly, examining the German, trying to get a good mental picture of him before the conference ended and it would be another whole year before seeing him again at the next conference.

Without warning, Germany shot a glance back, their eyes meeting just briefly enough for each to know the other had been thinking about him. Italy had quickly looked away, his gaze turning downward on the paper he had been doodling on before the meeting started. He fidgeted uncomfortably and looked back. Thankfully Germany had returned his eyes to who ever was talking.

_He looked...maybe he doesn't hate me?_ Italy thought, a small glimmer of hope fluttering in his gut, _Maybe...maybe I should say something?_ What do you say when you haven't spoken, let alone make eye contact in sixty-nine years?

_Nothing. There's nothing I can say to take back what I did._ Even though Italy hadn't really done anything wrong. It's not like he _wanted_ to surrender. It's not like he _wanted_ Germany and Japan to lose. He hated himself for those things. He hated that he couldn't have been stronger so that he could have maybe helped, or maybe not have gotten so bad off that surrendering became the only option outside of suicide.

People began standing, grabbing their jackets as they pushed in their chairs, and walked out.

_Oh, the meeting must be over..._

Italy stood and grabbed the light jacket from the back of his chair. His eyes darted directly to the side to see if Germany had left yet. He was still sitting there, though, his head hung low in what looked like deep thought.

Italy swallowed hard, _If you're going to say something to him, do it now!_

His mouth opened, but no words came out. Clenching his fists tightly, Italy turned and walked quickly, straight for the set of doors, leaving Germany sitting alone in the room.

Once outside the double doors Italy sprinted, running from all the pain and regret he'd left sitting at the table in the room. He sobbed into the sleeve of his shirt, only one thought crossing his mind. _And after all these years, you're still weak! This is exactly why you don't deserve him!_

**Author's note: **And here we have the sequel! It can be read separately from I Just Want to Help, but it's nice to read both since it gives major insight into why Germany and Italy are being so non-lovey. XD It gets fluffier, don't worry dearest readers. This story is going to be kind of a blend of angsty, funny, fluffy, dramatic, and maybe even a little informative when it comes to certain facts such as the history of Germany. (I consider myself to be an expert now, since I spent all day on the internet looking stuff up.)

The rating is subject to change. I'm starting it off as T because I already know that the second chapter on up is going to have some naughty words. It might get escalated to an M rating depending on the violence level and if I ever feel like throwing in a lemon.

Also, if you haven't inferred yet, there is going to be a few HRE=Germany references, and maybe even a full blown reveal in later chapters.

Anyway, that's the end of this horribly long author's note. If you'd like to read the prequel to this sequel I've provided a link below for you enjoyment. :D

P.S. Please review with what you think so far, I like knowing people's opinions on the stuff I write so that if I do something wrong I can not do that again, and if I do something right, you'll see it more often.

**Prequel: **I Just Want to Help: http:/www. (fanfiction) .net/s/7579550/1/I_Just_Want_to_Help


	2. Call

Germany swung the front door to his house open and the first thing his eyes were greeted with was two ruby irises staring at him from behind a laptop on his couch, surrounded by a living room that had been destroyed in the few hours Germany had been at the meeting. He clenched his fists in attempt to prevent himself from charging at Prussia and strangling him. He knew it was a good thing that his older brother wasn't required to go to meetings anymore, since it caused major problems, but leaving Prussia in the house alone caused major problems, as well.

"Hey, West! What's with the pissy mood?"

Germany's eye twitched as he struggled to contain his complete and utter rage at that moment. Instead of dignifying Prussia's question with a response, he said nothing.

_He damn well knows why I'm in such a 'pissy' mood._

He slammed the door behind him with so much force a mirror fell off the wall and shattered loudly behind him. Germany didn't even flinch.

"Ah, shit, bruder! I need that to look at my awesomeness before I go out!" Prussia complained, "No need to take out all your sexual frustration on my mirror!"

"That shit you pulled with the chairs _wasn't funny._" Germany said in a deadly quiet tone, ignoring the comment on sexual frustration—for now, anyway.

Prussia rolled his eyes, "Psh, whatever. I have no idea what your talking about."

"Yes you do, I don't care whether you admit it or not, but you _know_ what you did." Germany took a threatening step forward, "And it _wasn't funny._"

"Seriously, no idea what you're talking about. I didn't switch Feli's chair so that it would be next to yours." Prussia said with a cocky smile, obviously knowing that he just gave himself away, and obviously not caring.

"So you did do it. And don't say his name, please. I don't exactly like talking about him. Especially when you call him Feli."

Prussia loudly exclaimed the way a parent would when letting their child win a game of checkers, "WELL, it look's like you got me, again, little bruder. Caught me in my own lie. You grew up to be such a smart little West, didn't ya?" His tone was grossly patronizing.

"Anyway," The albino continued in his more or less normal manner of speaking, "You two need to just get back together. Everyone's getting sick of all you two make puppy dog eyes at each other when one of you isn't looking. And what's this shit about not saying his name? What is he? Fucking Voldemort or something?"

"...Voldemort?" Germany asked. _What the hell is a Voldemort?_

"What? You've never seen Harry Potter?" Prussia asked, bewildered. "Damn, I always knew you were lame, but geez, West. Really?"

"Anyway, that's not the point. My point is that you need to stop messing with my life. Some things happen to be very serious and I don't need mein bruder making light of them by pushing chairs around."

Prussia snapped his laptop closed and set it on the coffee table, nearly crushing a sleeping Gildbird in the process, "Two things wrong with that statement. One, I wasn't making light of _anything._ I was just trying to do you and the little guy a favor by hooking you two up. Two, I didn't push _any_ chairs around. I paid Hungary to."

"You seriously _paid_ Hungary to change the seating arrangements?" Germany asked, a look of disbelief crossing his face.

"Yeah, she said she would have done it for free, but since _I_ was asking for the favor she'd have to charge me forty euros, thanks to her very special hate for me. Not like I care, since I used your money, anyway."

Germany's face went straight into shock and rage, "You used my _own _money to pull a prank on me_?_"

"It wasn't a fucking prank! It was an honest attempt to get you guys back together!"

"It might as well have been a prank. A bad one at that. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble doing something like that can cause?"  
>"What? Will you go on another rampage and beat the shit out of him if you get within five feet of the little guy?"<p>

The room suddenly became extremely tense with silence as Prussia's words hung in the air. Germany squeezed his eyes shut in pain and took a deep breath in.

Prussia realized that what he had just said was a low blow, and he had taken it too far. He tried to take it back, "Shit, don't listen to me, West. That wasn't a very awesome thing for me to say..."

"Nein...it's true."

"Huh? What? You really _are_ gonna beat the shit out of him? I think you might need some anger management if that's the case."

"Nein, that's not exactly what I meant. I can't trust myself anymore, what if I _do_ snap again? Not to mention he's terrified of me, now."

"Ah geez, West. Way to be dramatic. You obviously haven't seen the way he looks at you during those meetings."

"How would you know? You never go."

Prussia looked at his nails nonchalantly, "I have my sources." And then fake coughed into his fist, "_AHEM_, Kiku, Elizaveta, _AHEM, COUGH, AHEM."_

Germany dropped his gaze to the floor, and pinched the bridge of his nose in thought, _Well, we did make eye contact today, maybe Prussia's telling the truth...Maybe he still looks at me the way I look at him all the time...maybe he misses me._

"Whatcha thinking?" Prussia loudly asked, interrupting Germany's train of thought. The German just shook his head dismissively.

"Seriously West, if you miss him that bad why don't you just talk to him?"

"Because I _don't_ miss him." Germany automatically replied.

"Bullshit!" Prussia yelled obnoxiously, as he stood up off the couch and walked towards the kitchen. Gilbird followed behind, chirping just as obnoxiously, as if in agreement.

Germany compulsively bent over to grab an empty bag of chips off the floor so to start cleaning the living room, continuing to talk, "Why would I miss him? He betrayed me. I don't want to have anything to do with him."

"Psh." Prussia snorted. The sound of a refrigerator opening was heard, "Come on, you and I both know that _him_ betraying _you_ isn't why you don't want to talk to him."

"Are you implying that _I_ betrayed _him?_" Germany said in disbelief, still picking up trash, and crumpling it between his fists.

Prussia slammed the fridge and walked out back out to the living room, leaning against a wall with a very large energy drink in hand. He took a long sip before speaking, seeming to be trying to choose his words wisely for once. "No...not exactly. I'm implying that you _feel_ like you've betrayed him. You fucked him up pretty bad. I'd probably feel the same way you do, especially since he's so damn cute; but the point is you _have_ to _get over it._"

Germany stared at him with a look that was definitely a glare, but you could tell that behind it he knew Prussia was completely right. "Just don't call him cute." He answered in a slightly threatening tone, standing up straight.

"Someone jealous? Afraid I'll talk your little Italian from you?" Prussia teased, "Actually, probably a good call on your part. I mean, you're mein little bruder and you kinda had him first so I'm going to try and help you out with him this time 'round, but honestly if you don't go get him soon I _will._"

Germany's face went bright red and he hurriedly defended, "I am _not_ jealous...I could care less." _Swear to gott, you to much as _look_ at him the wrong way and I will have your ass mounted on the wall._

Prussia started laughing hysterically, it lasted for a while before he wiped a small tear from his eye, "That was a good one! Look at mein little bruder, quite the comedian, huh?"

Germany gave him a steady glare, and then stalked out of the living room to throw away the trash he'd picked up.

"So, anyway..." Prussia continuing speaking carefully, as if what ever he was about to say would set off a bomb, "Why don't you call him?"

"NO." Germany said firmly, stuffing the fistfuls of garbage into the trashcan forcefully. "That would be the absolute _worst_ thing to do in this situation."

"Really, all mighty Ludwig? Then what would be the best thing? Ignoring him for another fifty years?"

"Sixty-nine." Germany corrected.

"Huh?"

Germany walked back into the living room and stood stiffly, his back to Prussia so he couldn't see his face. "It's been sixty-nine years since we've last spoken."

"You've really been keeping track?" Prussia asked, surprised, "West, no one keeps track of those things unless they miss the _shit_ outta someone."

"Well I don't." Germany lied through his teeth, still hiding his face that was so heartbroken at the thought of the years gone by without Italy.

"You're a bad liar."

"You're a bad teacher." Germany retorted.

"Oh come on, I never taught you to lie! I'm a good big bruder who would never teach anyone such things!" Prussia lied with a false tone of innocence.

"Funny." the German replied dryly.

Prussia answered back with an equal amount of sarcasm, "Just one of the many things we have in common."

Germany rolled his eyes and turned towards the stairs, "Anyway, I'm going to bed now."

"No you're not, you still haven't called Italy!" Prussia shouted at him as the German numbly walked away.

"Yes I am, there is no way you'll _ever _get me to call him." He continued walking without so much as glancing back.

"Okay then, if you won't I will."

Germany stopped dead in his tracks, _he wouldn't dare._..

He heard the sound of a cell phone's buttons being clicked behind him. Germany instantly pivoted on his heels and ran full speed at Prussia, who now had the phone up to his ear, waiting for an answer. Prussia turned and ran in the other direction, back into the kitchen, jumping easily on top of the table and then back down to the floor again on the other side, continuing his sprint.

"PUT IT DOWN, NOW!" Germany screamed as he violently pushed the table aside in an attempt to steal the phone from his brother.

Prussia didn't respond to Germany, rather he began speaking into the phone, "Hey there, Feli! Long time no see!"

Germany chased him around the kitchen, reaching out to grab Prussia by the collar. Just before the albino could be caught, though, he bolted into the large pantry and slammed the door behind him, a small click signaling that the lock had been turned.

_Damn it! Why the Hell do we have a lock on the pantry, anyway!_

"OPEN THE GOD DAMN DOOR, BEFORE I BREAK IT DOWN!" Germany said, ramming his fists into the flimsy wood of the pantry door. It would break easily if he were to ram his body into it.  
>Prussia's voice was heard through the pantry door, "Yeah, that's West. Just ignore him, he gets like this sometimes. You probably know that all to well, right?"<p>

Germany rammed his fists into the door even harder, screaming obscenities at the albino obviously hell bent on torturing him.

"Anyway, West wants you to come over, tomorrow! Awesome, right? ...Yeah, by West I mean Germany...no I'm not lying! Why would I do that?"

Germany screamed louder, "NEIN! GET OFF THE PHONE, NOW!" He still didn't try to fully break down the door though, because on a subconscious level he wanted this to happen. He wanted to see Italy tomorrow, though he didn't realize it.

"Oh that? He's just yelling because...um...I broke his stick." Prussia lied into the phone, trying to find an excuse for Germany's obvious displeasure.

"PRUSSIA!"

"Anyway, see you tomorrow! Swing by whenever you can make it, since time doesn't really matter much. West doesn't have anything to do tomorrow besides baking and shit."

"DAMN IT! STOP! HE CAN'T COME OVER! DO YOU HEAR ME? PRUSSIA? TAKE IT BACK! TELL HIM HE CAN'T COME OVER RIGHT NOW!"

"Yeah, yeah, see ya." A beep was heard form inside the pantry as if the phone had been turned off. "Good news, West. Your little boyfriend said he could make it, great, right?"

Germany suddenly stopped pounding on the door and spoke in a dangerously low tone, "The second you come out of there is the second I'll fucking kill you."

If Prussia was at all threatened he didn't sound it, "You can't kill awesomeness! Even if you _could,_ this is a pantry stocked with enough food and water to last me a week or two, and by then you would have already forgiven me after how great your love life turned out thanks to your wing man, here."

Germany just slammed his head against the door in defeat. _Arguing with mein idiot buder will do me no good. What's done is done, and there's no way I can take this back now...unless I want to call him and call it off..._ Germany glanced over at the his phone mounted on the wall, and quickly shook his head dismissively, _No, I can't do that. I'm not ready to talk to him, not yet. I'll have to talk to him tomorrow, of course, but I have all night to figure that out...there has to be a way I can get out of this without talking to him..._Not a single idea came to mind.

"I'm going to bed." He said, lifelessly. He no longer cared about killing Prussia, he was far too panicked about tomorrow. He walked like a dead man up to his room, shuffling up the stairs slowly. Upon entering the bedroom he collapsed face first on his bed and threw a pillow over his head. It wasn't late enough to sleep by any means, but the German figured he'd need it.

xxxxx

Prussia poked his head out from the pantry, carefully, as if Germany was hiding in a corner ready to ambush him. Once positive the coast was clear he walked out into the kitchen, ready to return to the couch and his laptop. On his way out of the room he muttered under his breath, "No way I'm letting West lose him again."

**Author's note: **Sorry this took SOOOOO LONGGGG. Second semester hit me hard, and school's been a real bitch lately. What's worse is every time I typed up this chapter I had to delete it because it never seemed to turn out just right. God, I hope I did Prussia justice here. There was so much more I wanted him to tease Germany about (in one of my previous chapters I had a particularly funny bit where he was mocking Germany. It was something along the lines of "LOOK AT ME! I'M WEST AND I'M SO SAD BECAUSE I BEAT UP ITALY! NOW I'M GOING TO GO CRY AND MASTURBATE WITH MY OWN TEARS BECAUSE I HAVE NO ITALIAN TO LOOOOOOOVE!") sadly some things just didn't fit. D:

So, sorry again for taking so long, once I got this final draft typed up I ended up sitting on it for a week because I wasn't so sure if I liked the way I wrote it or not. I'm sick of making you guys wait though, and I figured that this is about as good as it's going to get, so here you go. Good 'nuff. XD

Hopefully the next chapter will be much better, and a lot quicker to be published.

P.S. OHMYGOD SO MANY REVEIWS ALREADY! Seriously guys? 15 on the first chapter? Not to mention we hit 50 on the prequel! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, GUYS. SO SO SO MUCH! :'D Keep the reviews coming! :*


	3. Apology

Italy's fist shook ever-so-slightly as it hovered next to the door. He couldn't help but remember the last time he stood on this door step, what had happened after the door had opened. With his free hand he absently touched his chest where an iron cross used to lie.

_This time will be different...he really wants to see you! Be happy!_

Italy swallowed hard and stared at the door for a second longer, before finally tapping lightly on the wood with his quivering fist. The light tap reverberated through the house, but it stayed absolutely still inside. He knocked again. Still nothing.

_There's a car here, so someone should be home. It's three, he _has_ to be awake._

He checked the address number to be sure it was the right house. It was, unless the German had moved.

_No, don't be stupid. Countries don't move._

He knocked again, and again, and again, until finally he heard the sound of someone shuffling around inside the house. He felt his heart stop cold in his chest and then start thudding wildly out of either excitement or fear. In hindsight, it was most likely a combination of the two. His heart continued to ran wildly against his ribcage as the steps drew nearer. They stopped just on the other side of the door and he heard a very audible sigh on the other side before the it slowly creaked open.

There he was again, staring back into those perfect blue eyes. His face must have looked bewildered and awestruck, because Italy just couldn't believe that he was looking at Germany once again for the first time in sixty-nine years. Germany himself looked like he was stuck between emotions, and trying to hide all of them. He was biting his lip, but trying not to show it, and his eyes were strangely happy but sad. Italy gave an awkward, but reassuring smile and broke the silence that hung between the two.

"Ciao." He said, holding back his enthusiasm for fear of it being ill received. _Sixty-nine years and all I can say is ciao?_

Germany awkwardly tugged the collar of a shirt it looked like he had just thrown on hastily, with it half untucked and a random button undone. His hair looked as if he had slicked it back just as quickly, a few stray strands of light blond hanging down in his face. He grimaced slightly as he spoke, "Uh, guten tag." He looked into nothing as if trying to think of what to say. "Y-you may come in if you like."

Italy nodded and walked into the house, past Germany who had stepped aside to allow him in. _It's weird having to have Germany give me permission to come in. _Germany shut the door behind him and his lip biting became more visible as they awkwardly stood just inside the home. Italy looked around, the house hadn't changed much besides the television replacing a radio and the fact that it was completely trashed. He looked back at Germany questioningly.

The German answered, understanding the questioning glance, "Mein bruder can be very hard to live with, sometimes." Italy understood.

"Ve, so why'd you invite me over, or tell Prussia to, I mean?" He asked, getting to the point. He looked down and said softly, "I thought you never wanted to see me again."

A pained expression crossed Germany's face at the Italian's words. Italy looked up, expecting an answer. The German looked like he couldn't find the right words to respond with.

Italy fidgeted uncomfortably, and spoke once not getting the answer he craved. "Ve, it's okay...I really shouldn't be asking you questions since what really matters is why I wanted to come over. There's something I really need to say." He took a deep breath and looked like he was on the verge of tears as he looked Germany straight in the eyes and spoke. "I'm so sorry."

Germany's face was wiped of all emotion except for confusion. Italy elaborated.

"About what happened, I mean. I betrayed you, if it wasn't for me none of this would have happened, and if you had me come up so we could be friends again, I guess I should apologize first. I really deserved everything that happened to me."

"No." The harsh word fell from Germany's lips like a bomb. Italy felt his newly repaired heart crack. _No what? We can't be friends? He doesn't accept my apology? I should have known saying sorry wouldn't be enough. It never is._

"It was never your fault." Germany said, softly. "You didn't deserve what I did to you," As he continued the volume at which he spoke rose gradually as he became more and more distraught. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to stop tears, "I hate myself for what I did. Don't _ever_ say you deserved that. _No one_ deserves that, especially not you. You deserve compassion and love and respect, and I'm so sorry! I can't believe what I did and every single day I think of it and it makes me sick! This was all my fault, I should have understood! I was selfish, I knew you were fighting a losing battle and I knew that you would have died had you continued any longer...but I thought I could fix things and I was _wrong._ Your only option was to surrender, but I couldn't accept that. I wanted with _me_ and it drove me to the level of abuse, and I will _never_ stop hating myself for that. _Never._ So don't you _dare_ apologize like the saint we both know you are, because you did nothing wrong. You were never meant for war, Italy. I think we both knew that it would break you, but I never thought that I'd be the one doing the breaking." He took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. "Just please understand that no matter what I said back then, and what I did to you, it was _never_ your fault."

Italy sniffled and took a deep breath, covering his face with a hand, "No, Germany, I...I'm not a saint. I'm not innocent. This was my fault, and I accept that. I was weak, if I had been stronger like you maybe things would have been different."

Germany shook his head, "Don't say things like that. You are a far better person than me-"

"But am I a better country?" Italy interrupted.

Germany was slightly caught off guard by the question. It was a rather philosophical thing to hear coming from Italy.

He avoided eye contact as he answered. "No one can be a good country and a good person...countries are built on war and conquest. Countries have to stomp other countries down to better themselves. People are just born good."

"So that's a no."

Germany looked at him very seriously, "Being a better person is more important. Please, never wish to be stronger, because with strength just comes war. We both know all to well that war has never been too kind."

Italy looked down at his feet and sighed, twirling a strand of hair around his finger absently. "Yeah." His mind trailed off to all the things strength and war had destroyed. It seemed like his whole life was spent living in it's emotional aftermath.

"Please, don't ever change." Germany placed a hand on Italy's shoulder, "I...I like you the way you are."

Italy furrowed his eyebrows and blinked a few times, still not looking up at Germany, "Don't say that."

Germany removed his hand from the Italian's shoulder and looked at him, once again confused, "Why? That's a compliment."

Italy numbly shook his head, "I know...but I said that to someone a really long time ago and he didn't listen to me."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

He was silent for a while before speaking, "I had this same conversation with him about becoming strong, but he didn't listen to me. The same thing happened to him that happened to my Grandpa Rome. He fell." A tear slid from the Italian's eye, "I...I really don't want to talk about that though."

Germany didn't know what to say, he was curious as to who Italy was talking about. He didn't want to pry though.

After a long silence Italy looked up with a small smile, getting back on topic, "So, we're made up now, right?"

Germany nodded his head, returning the smile, of only just barely, "Ja."

A grin spread across Italy's face and he attacked Germany with a tight hug so forceful it knocked the two backwards against the door. The German gave Italy an awkward pat on the back, not totally sure about how to handle the situation.

"KISS HIM, WEST!" A loud voice rang out through the room. Germany found Prussia standing in the doorway leading up from the basement. Italy released his grip on the German so that he could turn and see the source of the shout. He smiled and waved.

"Ciao, Prussia!"

Germany face palmed, and left the hand there, trying to cover the blush spread across his cheeks.

Prussia laughed at his younger brother's embarrassment and spoke, "Okay, I'll just go since I'm being such a cock block. I'll be at the bar with Francis and Antonio if you need me. By the way, don't try and call my cell phone since it broke due to awesome exposure."

Germany was fuming, a mass of flustered, jumbled German fell from his mouth as he ranted at his brother for the 'cock block' comment. Not to mention it was Germany who had bought Prussia's phone for him. He'd probably stuck it in the microwave like the other one.

Prussia laughed, "Fine, whatever. You _totally_ don't want to fuck him. Just get out of my way so I can leave."

Germany was about to strangle Prussia, but thankfully it seemed like Italy either hadn't heard the comment or didn't understand it. He decided to spare his brother and keep him alive as a small favor for him being the reason Germany had been able to make up with the Italian.

They stepped away from the door to let Prussia out. He gave Germany a teasing pat on the head on the way and pinched Italy on the cheek a little too hard. Germany shot him a threatening glare and Prussia just rolled his eyes and continued out the door. Once it was shut an awkward silence seemed to hang in the air as they both wondered, _now what?_

"Uh..." Germany spoke, trying to think of anything to say or do to kill the awkward aura that hung in the air. "How about...um...some television?" He said, walking over to the TV and pressing the on button. He honestly didn't use it much, as it was more Prussia past time to waste away in front of a screen. He just thought the background noise would at least end the quiet.

As the screen faded in from black, though, he realized that the awkward silence was now the least of their problems. In front of the two was a large volcano over a city, apparently erupting. Italy couldn't read the banner across the bottom of the screen, as it was in German, but he didn't need to. He recognized it instantly.

"Monete Vesuvio..." He muttered under his breath, his eyes wide in fear as his mind slowly registered what what going on on the television.

Germany looked back at him worried, he knew about Mount Vesuvius...this was a very bad thing for the city of Naples. "Italy...?" He said slowly, anticipating the breakdown that was sure to ensue.

"_No._" He muttered, still looking at the television, unblinking. He suddenly began digging around in his pockets, wildly in search of a cell phone "NO NO NO NO NO!" He screamed.

"I need to call fratello, shit! Shit, no! He's he's..." He looked around wildly, trying to spot a phone. His eyes landed on one hanging on the kitchen wall, one of the old fashioned kind with a cord attached. He bolted to it and pulled it off the receiver, pounding Romano's phone number into the phone and then pressing to to his ear, desperately. As it rung he talked into the phone, "No, no! Of all the days for him to be in Naples! Please, pick up Romano!" The rings stopped and he heard a voice on the other end of the line.

"This is Italy Romano."

"Oh thank God, fratello, are you all-"

"Just leave a fucking message after the beep, and don't expect me to call you back, either."

Just a voice mail. Italy pulled the phone from his ear and desperately dialed again, all the while Germany's attention bouncing between ways to comfort Italy and the news coverage on the television. The footage of the volcano eruption over Naples cut away to footage of something else. The German's heart stopped as he read the banner underneath. Italy didn't see it, nor did he care. He was too busy listening to the endless rings on the phone. "NO! PLEASE! PLEASE FRATELLO! DAMMIT!" He pulled the phone from his ear and began ramming it against the wall in frustration, "NO NO NO! WE DID EVERYTHING! WE TRIED TO MAKE SURE WE'D KNOW IF IT HAPPENED AGAIN, SO THAT WE COULD EVACUATE THE CITY! NO!"

He kept screaming and bashing the phone into the wall. Germany wished there was something he could do to comfort him, but from what he saw on the TV things were only bound to get worse.

"Feliciano..." He uttered the Italian's human name, seeing as where things were heading it wouldn't matter if they were countries or not anymore. "There's more."

Italy snapped his head in Germany's direction, "WHAT ARE YOU-" He started yelling, until he saw the TV, "Oh my God."

The footage kept changing between different volcanic eruptions, it was apparently happening all over the world. The banner underneath read, 'Ungeheure Vulkanausbrüche auf der ganzen Welt. 3 Super Vulkane und 30 andere sind ausgebrochen. Millionen Tote bei der ersten Explosion. Die Zahl der Toten und der Ausbrüche steigt zusehends an*' Italy didn't understand it but he knew what was happening. The phone dropped from his hand as he looked up at the calender above his head. Today was December 21, 2012.

**Author's note:** Shit just hit the fan! D:

Translation:

*Massive volcanic eruptions all across world. 3 Super Volcanoes and 30 others have erupeted. Millions dead in initial blasts. Death toll and eruptions count rapidly rises.

Thanks to JuleBeilschmidt for helping me with the German! :D

I figured now would be a good time to discuss country death, and how it works in this story. Basically, the way I see it is that a country and a personified country's fate is intertwined, as long as the country exists, so will the personified country, and they won't die of old age. BUT I also see them as being just as mortal as actual humans, able to be killed with a single bullet and what not but ONLY BY OTHER COUNTRIES. They _can_ however die from natural disasters, starvation, illness, and other things like that because all these things can be linked to the physical country. So it's kind of like what ever happens to Italy the person happens to Italy the country, and whatever happens to Italy the country happens to Italy the person in one way or another. Sorry if that didn't make much sense, because I'm horrible at explaining things. ^^" I guess you'll just have to kinda figure out what I mean later on.

Anway, yeah. This was an important chapter, since it sort of sets the pace for the whole rest of the story. It's what we'd call in my literature class, the 'narrative hook.' So keep reading, I promise it gets better and less sad.


	4. Selfish

Germany stared at Italy, who had crumpled to the floor in the kitchen beneath the calender, still clutching the battered phone in his hand. The German didn't know what to do, what to say, anything. He was always good at handling desperate situations and thinking on his toes, as any good soldier would have to be, but fixing this situation seemed to be far beyond his abilities. He tried to think on what his first priority should be, but his thoughts just kept getting tangled together in all the chaos. He had no idea what to do, so he did the first thing that felt natural. He walked over to Italy and crouched down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Italy just broke down sobbing, clutching the phone to his chest with both hands.

"G-Germany, I don't know what happened to him, h-he's in Naples, w-what if he's d-dead?"

Germany sighed and tried to answer logically, his tone still comforting, though, "Just because he didn't answer your calls, doesn't mean he's dead. A volcano just went off, I don't think he's able to talk at the moment."

"Y-you're right, b-but I'm still worried! And l-look at the TV! The world is ending, w-what are we gonna do?"

Germany was silent for a while, "...I don't know."

Italy looked at him through puffy eyes, red from crying, "Well you're _supposed_ to know! You're Germany, you always know what to d-do!"

Germany sighed deeply and looked in from the kitchen at the TV. He cringed a little and spoke, "Italy, I'm _terrified_. I have no idea what to do anymore."

That seemed to scare Italy into not talking, which only scared Germany more. The two sat quietly on the floor looking into the living room, watching as horrendous images flashed across the television screen. Every so often they'd show body bags, or something to a similar effect and he could feel Italy tense up.

"It's okay, just don't look." Germany said to him. Italy's lip quivered a little bit as he tried not to start crying all over again.

"No, it's okay. I can handle it." He didn't sound as confident as he had meant to.

"Italy, don't look at the TV. Please. You're just upsetting yourself."

"No, if my brother has to _live_ through it the least I can do is watch on TV." He sounded a lot more sure that time.

Germany looked at the Italian, who just stared at the news coverage with a horrified expression, but determined to not to look away. He wasn't going to chicken out this time. It was almost like he was taking a dare from himself to keep his eyes glued to the television. It worried Germany. He wondered how long it would be before he'd get to see the happy, pasta loving, ve-ing, Italian he knew sixty-nine years ago.

_The way things are turning out, it would be a miracle if I ever saw that side of him, again._

That thought tore Germany's heart apart. The idea of never seeing Italy be his regular, positive self killed him inside. He knew he couldn't let the Italian keep watching the news footage. He knew it would only hurt him more. Germany covered Italy's eyes before he could see anything else.

"What are you doing? Let go! I need to see! Let go!" He said, squirming, "This is important to me! PLEASE!"

"Just don't look, please, Italy. That's important to _me_. You don't have to see all this to know what's happening. I'll just tell you, okay? I promise, but please don't look at the TV."

"Don't you understand that Romano is going through this right now! He has to live through it! He doesn't have the luxury of looking away! I need to watch what's happening, so that maybe at least I can _imagine_ his pain and sympathize with him!" He tried to wrench his head out from under the hand Germany used to cover his eyes. It didn't work.

"You don't have to watch!" Germany exclaimed, "Please! I'd rather have you ignorant and happy than informed and depressed!"

"I think I'm going to get depressed no matter what, considering what's happening!"

"Just listen to me. Please!"

"NO!" Italy jerked his head again.

"ITALY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOTT! LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE! THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY OWN GOOD!" He said, finally swatting Germany's hand off his face, standing up, and running to the living room to get a closer look and to evade the German.

Before Germany could react he heard the front door burst open and someone loudly exclaim, "WE HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" The voice was Prussia's for sure, but it wasn't in his usual, obnoxious tone. It was a tone he hadn't heard in a while, it was the tone he used when he meant business.

Germany stood and went to the living room to see his brother standing in the doorway looking rather determined, "Okay West, listen to me right now. We have to get the hell out of the city before things get ugly. Grab your boyfriend and pack your shit, we're leaving."

If it wasn't for the fact the Prussia was being absolutely serious, Germany would have been more upset about the boyfriend comment.

"Feli, I need to get my stuff too," Prussia continued, making his way to the basement door, "I need you to go into the kitchen and pack up everything in the pantry, okay? There should be plastic bags in that dumb ass little holder thing that West keeps on the wall in there. Just fill those up. And hurry, because people are starting to go fucking nuts out there."

Italy nodded and ran to the kitchen, Germany went up the stairs to his room to pack some of his things like Prussia had advised him. He figured it best not to question his brother while he was in this state, and he had more of a game plan than Germany did, anyway.

First he ran to his closet and grabbed clothes. He wasn't totally sure on what he'd need, but he figured warm clothes would be his best bet. He pulled some out and threw them onto his bed. He then realized that if Italy would be going with them to wherever it was that they were going, he'd need clothes, too. No way they'd drive all the way down to Italy for that, though. He dug around, looking for clothes he had that were too small on him in hopes that maybe they'd fit the Italian. He couldn't find much, since he usually threw out things once they'd shrunk in the wash, but there was nothing he could do about that. Maybe Prussia would have some things.

He tore open his drawers and threw random pairs of pants, socks, and underwear onto the pile. He made sure to grab lots of underwear and socks, since those were rather important and got dirty a lot faster than shirts and pants. He got to the bottom of his drawer and came across the red pair of underwear Italy had given him for Christmas so long ago. After cursing himself for being so pathetic as to keep them and hide them in the bottom of his underwear drawer, he chucked them onto the ever growing pile of clothes on his bed. The fact that they weren't folded after being tossed like that drove the German absolutely insane, but he would refold everything when he placed them in the suitcase.

He scoured his room for other things he might need, starting with his nightstand. He found an old first aid kit, (some thing he'd gotten into the habit of keeping with him when Italy was still around,) a bottle of aspirin (another thing he'd gotten into the habit of keeping with him thanks to Italy,) and chap stick. There were other things in there, as well, but nothing that would be all that important to bring with.

He then went to his desk, opening each individual drawer and digging through it for things of use. He grabbed a lot of pens and pencils, figuring someone would need them at some point. He also grabbed a few notebooks. He figured if he didn't use them, Italy could at least doodle in them. He grabbed a map, since god knows how long GPS would last for. He'd finally gotten down to the last drawer on his desk. He pulled it open and his heart nearly stopped. He'd forgotten about those.

What lie in the bottom of the otherwise empty drawer were two iron cross necklaces. Germany's and Italy's. After Italy surrendered in WWII Germany had taken it from the Italian, and it had become too painful to wear his own. He had thrown them in the old desk to gather dust for the next nearly-seven decades. Now that they were rediscovered and that he had made up with Italy, he decided it was time to give it back. He picked up the two necklaces, who's chains had become slightly tangled together. Even though they were being pressed for time, Germany spent the next ten minutes untangling the chains and fixing the clasp he'd broken on Italy's when the German had yanked it from around his neck. After toiling with the pliers he was satisfied with his work. He put his own around his neck and tucked it under his shirt, and carefully placed Italy's in his pocket to give to the auburn-haired man later.

He placed all the things he had decided to take with him in a suitcase. Not everything fit, so he had to resort to throwing a few things into a cardboard box. They would definitely need more stuff, but that was all he really needed from his bedroom. He managed to carry the box with one arm, hugging to his chest while he dragged the suitcase down stairs. The noises on the ground floor were a mixture of dogs barking, as apparently Prussia had let them in; a bird chirping, _Didn't I tell him to keep that thing outside? _And Prussia swearing all over the place as he looked for car keys.

Germany walked into the even more destroyed living room and set his things on the coffee table. Prussia didn't seem to notice as he was busy flipping the sofa over so to find the missing keys.

"Damn it, I know I had them with me when I left the bar! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Where'd I put them?" He left the sofa flipped over as he ran out the door without any explanation. Germany was not happy seeing his living room in this state. His house in this state. The _world_ in this state (as the television was still on and broadcasting even more morbid images, as apparently earthquakes had begun to take place as well.)

He looked away and went down his mental checklist of other things they'd need. _Radio,_ _flashlight, batteries..._ He knew he had one radio somewhere, it was Prussia's before he'd gotten an iPod. _Damn...it's in his room._ He tried to avoid the basement at all costs, the whole thing being Prussia's room. He liked to pretend it didn't exist, and there was absolutely no horrendous mess beneath his home. Now he had to go down there and get a radio, and while he was at it, to see if he could find anything that would fit Italy better than his own clothes.

Speaking of the Italian, Germany wondered how he was holding up. He took a few steps forward so that he could see into the kitchen. There were a few plastic bags on the table filled with food stuffs, but no Italy in sight. After scanning the room a few more times he finally caught a glimpse of a little curl poking out from behind the pantry door. The German breathed a sigh of relief, but something was still wrong. Why wasn't Italy moving around, getting things together like he was supposed to?

_He just found out that the world is ending, his brother may or may not be dead, and if he is alive the odds of them even seeing other again is slim. He's probably in the middle of a mental breakdown._

Germany carefully approached the pantry, a little surprised that he didn't hear any crying like he expected. He pulled back the thin wooden door to find that Italy was laying on the ground, face down. The German's initial reaction was alarm, but then he noticed that he appeared to be breathing, and normally at that.

_Is he...sleeping? How could he sleep at a time like this?_ Germany laughed a little bitterly, "And I though you would have changed after all these years..." He muttered to himself. _Though I'm glad you didn't, anyway._

He gently nudged the Italian awake. The smaller man rolled over on the floor so that he was face up and blinked his wide, honey colored eyes open, staring at Germany, a little confused, as if he'd momentarily forgotten where he was. His face quickly changed to sadness, as he remembered the events of the past hour or so.

"Ve...scusa." He muttered as he slowly peeled himself up off the floor, "I think I tripped, and then I was so tired I...I..." He looked about to doze of mid-sentence, "I must have fallen...asleep. Scusa, again."

"Italy, are you okay? Why are you so tired?"

"Didn't sleep last night." He answered as he turned his back and marched back into the pantry, "And then I skipped my siesta to come here. And after I cry I always get sleepier...so I..." He wobbled unsteadily as he reached for a large package of bottled waters of a high shelf. Germany rushed in to help him pull it down as he finished his sentence, "I just slept. It was nice. I forgot about everything bad that happened."

Germany nodded, taking the package of water from Italy and carried them to the table. Italy kept speaking as he filled a plastic bag with canned potatoes, "Actually...I had a really nice dream. I almost wish I could just go back to sleep forever and just live in it."

"What was it?" Germany asked, trying to keep Italy talking so that he wouldn't pass out on the floor again. He returned to the pantry to help fill bags.

"Ve, it was you and me..." He smiled, "And we were on a picnic! And Romano was there, too, but he was really happy instead of being grumpy all the time. And Spain was there with him. Prussia was there, too, I think. We all played football, and ate pasta-"

"We ate pasta on a picnic?"

"Si, it was a dream, so it was nice and warm, still." Italy smiled at the thought of warm pasta, "And then it started to get dark and all the sudden we were in the pretty meadow next to my house, but this time it was just me and you. I picked a bunch of daisies, and then we layed down in the grass and looked at the stars when they came out." His smile got wider, "I love daisies and looking at the stars, next to pasta those are my favorite things."

He was quiet for a second as he struggled to get down a can of peas from the top shelf. Germany helped him out by grabbing it and handing it down to him.

"Ve, grazie!" Italy said as he took the can and placed it in his bag. "You know, that wasn't my favorite part of the dream, though."

Germany looked down at him and asked another question to keep him from dozing off, "What was your favorite part, then?"

The Italian smiled warmly, "You said..." His voice trailed off as his face changed to either disappointment or sadness, Germany couldn't tell. Italy furrowed his eyebrows, quickly shaking his head, "Never mind, I lied. The part about the pasta was my favorite part. Si, pasta...nothing else."

Germany quirked an eyebrow, signaling to Italy that he wasn't buying the lie and that he wanted to know what his favorite part of the dream was.

_What did I say?_

Italy ignored the implicated question and continued grabbing things. He held a can of spaghetti-O's suspiciously to his face, "People put pasta...in cans?" He face was a little disgusted, as if the thing he held in his hands was pasta blasphemy.

"Ja, there should be some Chef Boyardee in there, too." Germany said, dropping the dream subject, accepting that he wouldn't get an answer. Today, at least.

"Chef Boy-are-DEE...?" Italy sounded it out to himself "Ve, Germany, you're still really bad at pronouncing Italian names."

"No, that's what it says on the can." The blond nation grabbed the nearest can of ravioli and handed it to the Italian, pointing to the name on the label. Italy squinted at it, curiously.

"Ve, that's not how you spell it..." He said, "It's supposed to be spelled like B-o-i-a-r-d-i! And you pronounce it like 'boy-ARE-dee' Not 'boy-are-DEE'." He set the can back on the shelf and made a grossed out face, "Plus it's canned pasta, so it's no good."

"I never thought I'd see you turn down pasta in my life." Germany said, grabbing the can and putting it in his bag, anyway. He knew the Italian would want it sooner or later, once he'd gone a few days without his favorite dish.

"I never thought I'd see canned pasta in my life." Italy muttered to himself, "This Chef Boiardi guy is must be crazy if he thinks putting pasta in a can is a good idea! You need to make it fresh with love and..."

Germany half listened to the canned pasta rant, glad to see that at least Italy was distracted from what had just happened. After a a few more minutes, (and the return of Prussia, who had found the keys in the ignition of Germany's car, which he had driven to the bar earlier,) Germany and Italy had finished packing all the non-perishable food items in the house.

"I'm going to get some more things." Germany said, grabbing some of the few remaining plastic bags.

"Like what? I want to help, too." Italy asked.

_That's a good idea, maybe it'll keep his mind off of things._ "Okay, then. I need you to find batteries. Anywhere you can, open up remotes, alarm clocks, anything that might have batteries in them. Look in that top left drawer in the kitchen, too. That's usually where I put them. Also, pack everything in the medicine cabinet, as well. And grab any lighters, matches, or candles you see."

Italy nodded, grabbed a bag, and went off to complete his mission, starting with the kitchen drawer Germany had pointed out to him. As the Italian sifted through the contents of the drawer searching for batteries, the German tossed a bag at Prussia, who had been staring at the television far longer than necessary.

"Huh? Oh West." He picked up the crumpled bag, and looked at his brother with a weary expression Germany could only recall seeing twice in his life. "What other shit do we need."

"Clothes for Italy and a radio. I know you have a radio down in your basement, and I figured maybe you'd find some clothes that are too small for you to wear. I already looked through my things, but I couldn't find much. And even then they won't fit him."

"So we're bringing him with?" Prussia asked, turning his gaze back to the television screen, which was now broadcasting the remains of a village in god-knows-where, destroyed after some sort of tsunami.

"Of course we're bringing him with!" Germany answered, a little surprised that Prussia was implying that they _wouldn't._

"West...we don't have a lot of food and water with us."

"Are you actually saying we should leave him behind?" Germany's tone was one of disbelief.

"No, God no. What kind of cruel, sick bastard do you think I am? I was thinking we send him back to Italy." Germany looked like he was about to interrupt, but Prussia spoke over him, "I was at the bar with Antonio and Francis when we heard about what happened, Toni freaked out and said he was going back to Naples to find Romano. I told him to wait up, that we were going to send Feli back with him, too."

"No." Germany answered. "You're insane if you think I'm going to let him go to _Naples_ of all places."

"I'm sorry, West, but you and I both know that we don't have enough supplies to bring him with us, and Antonio isn't a _complete_ dumb ass, he'll figure something out. I'm sorry it has to go like this, especially since you two just made up and all...but we have to be realistic about things."

"No."

"We can't take him."

Germany looked like he was about to either punch Prussia in the face, cry, or both. "He has to come with us. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself not knowing if he's okay or not."

Prussia lowered his voice, "Sh, don't be so loud, he's right in the kitchen. Do you really want him to hear?"

The German spoke quieter, "We're taking him with and that's final. I'm not losing him for a second time, dammit."

"Life can be a bitch, sometimes, West. Especially life for countries."

"No. No no no no no. He's coming with us, and I don't care what you have to say on the matter."

"West..." Prussia looked like he was being torn apart, "Do you honestly think I _want _to do this to you two? Do you honestly think this wasn't a hard decision for me to make? I _really_ want to take him with, too. You have to use your head, though. You always get caught up in the moment of things and forget to think it through."

"And you _don't?_"

"When it comes to situations like this, we both know I'm a lot better at thinking on my feet. It comes with experience."

"Two world wars and I'm not experienced?"

"You don't change much at all, do you?"

Germany looked confused at the question, Prussia elaborated, "Even as a little tiny West you were always thinking you knew what to do, that you had everything covered, that you could do everything on your own. You _couldn't._ And even now you still think you know everything, and that you can make all your own decisions, and while that may be true about some things, I'm telling you right now that when it comes to this you _can't._I know you try and pretend like your emotions never get in the way, but you and I both know that a lot of times they _do._"

Germany opened his mouth to try and say something, but nothing came to mind.

_He's right...but he's still wrong. We have to take Italy with._

"You know, he probably wants to see his brother, anyway." Prussia said, "This way is better for everyone."

Germany lowered his voice so much, it was hardly audible. He _really_ didn't want to chance Italy hearing this, "We don't even know if his brother is _alive._"

Prussia looked down and sighed, "Even in that case I think he'd still want to be there. To know for himself and to see him one last time."

Germany shut his eyes and a pained expression crossed his face, "I know I'm being incredible selfish, but I still can't let him go. He _has_ to come with us. I don't know what I'll do if I just let him go off and never know what happened to him."

Prussia was silent for a long while, it looked as if he were thinking on something, "Yeah. You're selfish." He gave a small, bitter laugh. Germany couldn't distinguish the reason. "But you're still mein little bruder."

Without much explanation Prussia pulled a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. After a few moments of silence how spoke into the phone.

"Hey, it's Gilbert. Just go ahead without Feli, West's being one stubborn son of a bitch...I know, but it's okay because I guess he's more like his awesome big bruder than we thought...yeah, he _is_ selfish, isn't he?"

Germany didn't know why his brother had suddenly changed his mind like that, he didn't want to question it because he _was_ getting what he wanted, but it was so strange. Prussia had just _given in_. Not to mention he was acting sort of strange when he'd let Germany have it his way.

Prussia hung up the phone, and shook out the plastic bag so to un-wad it.

"Well, I'll go get those clothes and shit." He said, walking to the basement.

**Author's note: **Whew, long chapter, wasn't it? This was a _very_ important chapter on a few levels, though. And less sad, too. Yay!

If you're wondering what the hell is up with Prussia, and his sort of cryptic-ness at the end, there, there's a reason. You'll find out eventually, (since I haven't really decided when, yet,) but you will find out the whole meaning behind him giving in to easily. (Feel free to guess, if you want. I'm kind of curious as to what people are thinking.)

So, starting with the next chapter we get to go on a fun German road trip! Yup, so fun. This chapter ended up being loads easier to write than the last one because now I have a pretty clear idea on where this is going, give or take a few twists I come up with on the spot. I was going to end this chapter on a psycho cliffhanger, and leave you guys not knowing whether Italy got to come along or not, but I decided that would be really mean of me.

I really can't wait because either next chapter, or the chapter after it we're going to get to some fluff! You really have no idea how many sweet, fluffy, adorable scenes I've been planning out in my head for months, now. My favorite one is going to be really soon here, and it's going to reference back to the prequel in a way. So look forward to that! And if you haven't read the prequel you won't be lost, I promise. You don't need one to understand the other.

I'm also currently writing a high school AU for fun right now, it's also GerIta, because it's my OTP, and the only thing I can seem to do _some_ justice when I write. I'll post that whenever I decide that I like it enough, because it's more of something I'm doing for fun, and it doesn't even have a real plot line at the moment (but it does have a lot of interesting back stories that give it plenty of plot line potential.)

Anyway, ciao for now! (That rhymed! :D) and see you all next chapter!


	5. Awesome

After a few more things were gathered, such as blankets, coats, extra shoes, what ever seemed useful at the moment, the three stood quietly at the door, trying to think of what else they might need. Except Italy, all he could think was that his brother may or may not be alive at the moment, and that either way the two Italians would never see each other again. He swallowed hard and fought back tears, thankfully Germany or Prussia didn't seem to notice, as they were naming items off at each other and going down a mental checklist.

"...flashlight?" Prussia asked.

"Ja. I managed to find two."

"Batteries?"

"Check."

"Matches? Lighters? Shit like that?"

"Check."

"Candles?"

"Check."

"Food for Gilbird?"

"We're not really taking that damn bird with, are we?"

"OF COURSE WE ARE! HOW DARE YOU IMPLY WE LEAVE MEIN AWESOME GILBIRD BEHIND!"

"If we can't bring the dogs, we can't bring the bird."

"Three big ass dogs take up a lot more room and eat up a lot more food than one little chick!"

"Fine. But I swear to Gott, if we start running low on food, the bird is the first to go."

Prussia gasped and Gilbird chirped simultaneously in shock and disgust, "TAKE THAT BACK! WE ARE _NOT _EATING GILBIRD!"

"If it comes down between eating your bird and eating one of you two, I'll eat the bird."

Prussia smirked, "Really West? Because something tells me you're hungry for some of Feli's _pasta_. Kesesese~!"

Germany's face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment and he slapped his brother upside the head, "STOP WITH YOU GOTT VERDAMMT INUENDOS!"

"Okay then, would you have rather I just said you wanted to suck Ita's-"

"STOP IT." Italy shouted this time, surprising the two. "YOU TWO NEED TO STOP FIGHTING _RIGHT NOW!_ I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'VE NOTICED, BUT THE WORLD IS _ENDING._ JUST BE THANKFULL THAT YOU'RE BOTH SAFE FOR GOD'S SAKES! THERE ARE PEOPLE OUT THERE _DYING_ RIGHT NOW, AND ONE OF THEM MIGHT BE MY OWN BROTHER, SO YOU TWO NEED TO GET THE FUCK ALONG, BECAUSE YOU'RE STARTING TO PISS ME OFF!"

The two German brothers stared at Italy with wide eyes and jaws slightly agape. Italy matched the expression, realizing that he had briefly snapped. Unfortunately it seemed like ever since WWII his breaking points were getting increasingly easier to reach. The room was quiet for awhile while Germany and Prussia processed what the Italian had said, and while Italy was trying to think of the right apology and hoping that neither of the two though he was crazy. He bit his lip in concentration and stress. Finally someone spoke.

"Well, shit." Prussia said rather bluntly, "Guess you and your brother _are_ related, aren't you?"

Italy didn't quite understand what Prussia meant, "...Ve, we _are_ brothers. Usually brothers are related."

Germany still seemed to be processing what had just happened.

"Yoohoo? West?" Prussia whistled obnoxiously while waving a hand over Germany's face. The German seemed to snap out of what ever he was thinking and scratched the back of his head, awkwardly, "Uh, ja. Sorry."

"No, mi dispiace, I'm sorry. I just...got a little upset." Italy muttered, looking down at his feet.

Prussia put a hand on Italy's shoulder, "Don't be sorry, Ita. It's understandable. It's hard not knowing whether your family's okay or not. You're right, me and West really shouldn't be fighting right now." For some reason the albino had a strange look about him, a sad, sympathetic look. It really was miraculous how quickly he could go from panicked, to obnoxious, to surprised, to sympathetic all in one day. Major events like this really did make people act differently than you'd expect.

Germany nodded in agreement with his older brother. "Ja. It's hard." His mouth twitched as if he wanted to say more on the subject, but Italy already knew what he was thinking about. He had heard about the Berlin Wall, and he knew how sore of a topic it was around the two brothers.

He wondered what Prussia was referring to, though. Of course there had to be times where he had worried about Germany, but the way he said it made it seem like there was a specific incident. The Italian shrugged it off, deciding what ever it was it wasn't any of his business.

Rather Italy nodded solemnly. It seemed to be unsettling to Germany, who kept staring at Italy with a worried expression. Finally Prussia kept going on their list,

"Anyway, enough food and water?"

"Well, I don't know about enough, but we grabbed everything we could."

"Damn...okay, we'll worry about getting more of that later, since there's not much we can do right now. Band-aids, meds, shit like that?"

"Check."

"Stuff to keep us warm?"

"Check."

"Soap, shampoo, toothpaste, etc."

"Check."

"Stuff to pass time with, you know, like books and shit. I know I grabbed my laptop, since I figured I might as well have it for how ever long it's going to work."

"No, I never thought of that, actually." Germany said.

He grabbed on of the very few empty boxes off the floor and began to just throw books into it off the nearby book case. Italy was suddenly struck with an idea and made a request.

"What about a bible?"

The two looked at him a little peculiarly, Germany spoke, "I didn't know you read the bible. Don't Catholics usually...not read it?" It was true, usually Catholics didn't really study the Bible, but he probably could have phrased that a little better than that.

Italy replied with a small, obviously faked laugh, "Yeah, but I like to have it around. Some of the stories are nice, and sometimes it makes me feel better."

"Okay." Germany said, Prussia looked over at him and questioned, "Do we even have one?"

The German shrugged, he'd been an atheist for quiet some time now, both of them, in fact. "I'm sure I could find an old one around here _somewhere._"

"Well hurry up, we really should get going before we can't get out of the city."

"What do you mean?" Italy asked as Germany wandered away in search of the holy book.

"There's two things going on right now." Prussia stated, "One of them is riots, because people are freaking the hell out, breaking into stores and houses and stealing supplies, and whining about the government not doing anything about all the shit that's going down, when really they _can't. _The second thing is people like us are being smart and fleeing the city before we get caught up in the middle of something, since this place just _isn't_ safe to live in anymore, and probably never will be. The more people that leave, the harder it is to get out. The harder it is to get out the more likely some people will realize we've got all the shit they could ever need in our car and try to ransack us. Of course they wouldn't be able to, since mein awesome would fend them off, but it will still be a problem we can avoid if we get the hell out as soon as possible."

"Oh." Italy said simply, "Things are that bad?"

Prussia nodded, "Yeah, but don't worry too much, we'll get through it somehow."

The Italian had sort of a difficult time believing the albino as their situation seemed pretty hopeless, but he nodded none-the-less and faked positivity, "Yeah, you're right. Everything will be okay."

Prussia gave him a strange look, detecting the falseness in Italy's tone, but said nothing as Germany had walked into the room holding a dusty book that looked as if it were about to fall apart. He handed it to Italy, his face a little apologetic, "I'm sorry it's in such bad shape, I couldn't find anything else."

Italy smiled anyway and took it, gratefully. Despite the fact that it was dusty, falling apart, at least a century old, and severely damaged by water, it was still readable. To his delight when he opened it there were even old, smudged ink etchings on some of the pages. He grinned at Germany, "Grazie, it's perfect."

The German twisted his mouth in doubt and spoke, "If you say so."

"Anyway, I think that about wraps up everything right? Unless you two can think of anything else." Prussia grabbed a box and motioned for Italy to do the same.

The Italian picked up the box of books, and Germany started to grab some bags, but Prussia quickly stopped him.

"No, West. You're going to be the body guard. Your job is to watch us and the car while we fill it up. I haven't seen any problems in our neighborhood yet, but you can never be too sure. Like I was just telling Ita, people have been going crazy. Looting cars, houses, stores, everything. Since you're the scariest one here we need you to protect the supplies. I would do it, myself, but unfortunately I don't think I'd be of much effect since thugs can't exactly sense awesome."

"Okay...if you insist I really need to..." Germany said, looking slightly uneasy.

"Ja, you really need to."

"Fine, then." The German complied, following the two out the door.

After little incident the car was stuffed with supplies. There whole trunk and backseats were packed so tight the doors were difficult to shut.

"So how are we all supposed to fit into the car, now?" Germany asked, looking at Prussia skeptically.

"Easy. We'll all just sit in the front."

"Ve, there's only two seats..."

"I know." Prussia said as a mischievous smile spread across his face. "Okay, guys, since I'm awesome and I've got the keys, I'm driving!" He suddenly shouted, "You two will share the passenger seat."

Italy and Germany froze, looking at Prussia in complete horror. Italy had been trying his best to ignore all the albino's comments and meddling the whole time he'd been there, but he couldn't pretend he hadn't heard that.

"We won't both fit in the passenger seat..." Italy quickly excused.

"Ja you will, just sit on West's lap."

That was worse. Far worse. Far more awkward. Of course Italy would have liked it, and had it have been seventy years prior that he was faced with this situation, he wouldn't find it awkward at all. Too much had happened, though. It was hard for the two to feel normal around each other, and this would make things so much worse. Especially since Italy was positive Germany didn't return his feelings for him. The Italian was okay with that, though, he was glad that they were just friends again. He really didn't want to complicate the newly restored friendship with the awkward feelings that sitting on the German's lap would cause.

"D-don't be ridiculous! There's no way I'm letting you drive, and no way I'm going to let a grown man sit on my lap!"

"Fine, then you can drive, and Ita will sit on _my_ lap."

Italy saw something weird in Germany's face just then, it looked kind of like a strange mixture of possessiveness and jealousy, but he decided it was just his imagination. There was no way Germany felt like that.

And yet, when Germany spoke, his words reflected the expression that had crossed his face, "You're insane if you think I'm going to let him sit on _your_ lap!"

"Those are your only two options, so make up your mind. We have to go, _now._"

Germany looked like he might throw up as he quietly mulled over the two scenarios in his mind.

"Any day now, West."

"F-fine. You can drive." Germany answered flatly with a red face. Prussia smirked.

"I thought you might say that."

XXXXX

They had tried many different arrangements, but like Prussia said, the only way Italy manged to fit in the car with them was on Germany's lap. The blond's face was hot and probably bright red as he looked out the window, trying to pretend that Italy didn't exist so to maybe kill his embarrassment and how awkward the situation was, but that was extremely hard to do with Italy squirming all over the place, apparently trying to find a way to get comfortable without touching Germany more than necessary.

"Italy, stop moving around." Germany commanded through grit teeth to the Italian on his lap.

"Sc-scusa." He stopped. Germany saw the Italian's reflection in the window, and it looked as if his face was red as well. That was strange, Germany couldn't recall the Italian ever looking embarrassed about something. This only strengthened Germany's belief that the Italian didn't love him back.

Prussia smirked over at the two as he turned the keys in the ignition, "Fasten your seat belt, your in for an awesome ride."

Yet another dilemma. Wear a seat belt and have Italy _strapped_ to him, or not and face the consequences of Prussia's driving skills.

_Mein Gott, it just keeps getting worse, doesn't it?_

He decided to take his chances with Prussia's driving and not put on the seat belt for the sake of his own sanity.

Suddenly Prussia peeled out of the driveway, causing Germany to instinctively grab Italy around the waist to prevent either of the two from flying from the seat. Italy let out a loud squeak, and Germany couldn't tell if it was because Prussia's driving or because he had been gabbed. He quickly let go of the Italian, realizing what he had done, and awkwardly placed placed his hands to his own sides for lack of a better place. Prussia snickered at the two's reaction and discomfort, and Germany began to think it might have been a better idea just to have let Italy sit on Prussia's lap and drove himself, God knows it would have been safer than this arrangement.

Prussia glanced over at them. Germany instantly recognized the look, but before he could do anything about it the older brother had rammed his foot down on the gas pedal so hard Italy was flung backwards onto his lap fully and the back of his head knocked into the German's nose with painful force.

Hey cursed loudly in German, right into Italy's ear, causing the already jumpy Italian to lurch forward, smacking his own nose against the dashboard. He began whining and clutching his face. All Prussia was doing was laughing hysterically, still swerving around on the road at about eighty miles per hour.

"I think it's bleeding!" Italy whimpered through the hand cupped over his mouth and nose.

"Ja, I think mine is too." Germany said, covering his face as well. "Gott verdammt, Gilbert, your driving almost broke our noses!"

"Well, you should have been wearing your seat belt I knew you wouldn't be able to handle my awesome driving."

"First of all, wearing a seat belt wouldn't have prevented Italy from hitting me, second of all, your 'awesome' driving is going to get us all killed!"

"Psh, you worry too much." He accelerated through a red light, nearly hitting other cars, speeding though in the intersection in the other direction.

Italy was obviously scared as hell, and with his free hand he clutched the handle on the door. Germany took note and clicked the button to lock it, just in case.

After the very terrifying drive out of the town, consisting mainly of Prussia jumping curbs at high speeds to drive around traffic, they were outside of Berlin, going in a direction no one could discern. Prussia had slowed down a little bit since they were out of the city, but they were still going fairly fast. Italy and Germany's noses had since stopped bleeding and they had wiped their faces and hands off with wet naps from the glove compartment. Things had gotten relatively quiet in the car, the only noise that could be heard was the radio giving out alarming and depressing news reports in German.

Italy leaned back into Germany, surprising him a little. The small auburn haired man sighed and rested his head against the Germans shoulder, causing his face to heat up.

_What's he doing? Why is he laying on me like that? What do I do? What do I do?_

He looked down at Italy and realized that his eyes were closed. _He fell asleep again, that's why._

That made Germany feel a little less uncomfortable, knowing that Italy had just fallen back on him out of exhaustion, but it also made him feel a little disappointed that it hadn't been a conscious decision for the Italian.

Italy stirred in his sleep, attempting to get comfortable. He ended up curled sideways in Germany's lap, with his feet against the door and his head resting on the German's shoulder. His hands were folded peacefully in his lap over the Bible he'd been keeping close to himself since he'd received it. Germany examined his sleeping face, and in all his life he couldn't recall ever seeing anything so sweet and pure. Something about the way he breathed softly and the light smile pressed into his face. Germany instinctively wrapped his arms around the sleeping figure so that he was cradling the Italian in his arms.

Prussia glanced over at the two and smiled, he spoke, managing to startle Germany, "I'm glad you convinced me to let him come."

Germany looked up, a little red-faced. He had almost forgotten his brother was in the car, which was a rather hard thing to forget considering his personality. He answered slowly, "Uh...ja. Me too."

Prussia smiled sentimentally, returning his eyes to the road with a small laugh, "I don't think I would have been able to live with myself."

"Why?"

"Well, I'm sure you can imagine why. Look at you!" He moved his eyes from the road and nodded at Italy, "You two are inseparable, and it was dumb of me to try and send him back to Italy. Especially after you just made up. It would have been just plain mean."

"It was a logical idea." Germany answered.

"Yeah, it was logical, but in the end I don't think it would have been good for anyone. I think you would have gone crazy, and I honestly believe it's better for Ita not to know what happened to Romano. That way at least he can have faith that he's still alive."

"So you really don't think he is?" Germany said, lowering his voice.

Prussia sighed, and shook his head, "Things don't look good. I tried to tell Antonio not to go after him in the first place, but when it comes to Romano he's stubborn. Now I'm worried as shit for _both_ of them."

Germany sighed, "I guess I can understand it, though."

"Well, hell yeah, I can understand it, too. There's always that one person you'd risk your ass for. You'd be surprised, if you knew."

Germany gave him a questioning look and Prussia just shook his head with a sigh, when he spoke it sounded like it was mainly to himself, not meant to be heard, "Sometimes I wish you remembered."

Germany furrowed his brows, confused he opened his mouth to ask Prussia what he was talking about, but his brother answered before he could get a word out.

"I know, I'm being vague and weird. Just don't ask, since I'm just not really sure I want to talk about it right now...or ever."

The German returned his gaze to the Italian in his arms, Prussia continued to smile at the two.

"Thank you." Germany muttered to his brother, his eyes never straying from Italy, who appeared to be getting more beautiful by the second.

"For what?" Prussia asked.

"For calling him. Even though you pissed me off and gave me hell, I can't help but be glad. I've thought about what would have happened if he hadn't have come up, and I realized that things wouldn't have been good. What if he were to have gone to Naples, too? And if not he'd still be left alone to take care of himself. Not to mention I never would have known what had happened to him."

Prussia smiled, "See? I knew you'd thank me. Big bruder always knows best."

"I wouldn't go as far as to say you _always_ know best, but you have your moments." Germany smiled as he absently brushed Italy's bangs out of his face, "As far as older brothers go, you're probably the most awesome one I can think of, though."

** Author's note: **Long wait for this one, but look at how worth it it was! I just love how this chapter turned out, putting Italy on Germany's lap was a random spur of the moment decision, but boy am I glad the idea came to me! And if that wasn't fluffy enough for you, the next chapter is going to be a little something I call FLUFFTACULAR.

This chapter was a little weird in that it jumped around from emotion to emotion a lot, going from silly, to angsty, to awkward, to fluffy, to a little depressing, to brotherly love and awesomeness. That probably has something to do with the fact that I wrote each little bit on different days while I was in different moods, but I think it works well in this chapter, since I imagine everyone's moving between emotions pretty quickly. Whenever something bad happens to me, I usually flip through different feelings like channels on a TV.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Join us next to for some beautiful fluff and a special reference back to the prequel. :D

P.S. Thanks so much for all the reviews, and faves, and alerts, and even the one community that added this story. I love you all! Keep the reviews coming, since I really love getting feedback, good and bad, because it tells me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. Also, it makes me work faster. I know it sounds bad, but it's true. The more reviews I get, the more excited I get about delivering the story to my readers. So keep 'em coming! :D


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